Begin Recording

Heartbeats

Recording by Scribe Ellison

My son was waiting, with the same patient expression he'd worn when I first saw him. Totally calm.

And I suddenly had a last bit of energy to be angry again. "Shaun Michael Mason, what the hell have your people been doing?" My son blinked, taken aback, and I realized what I'd said. Used his whole name like a mother disciplining a child.

Maybe because of that he turned first to the boy, who was unashamedly hiding behind me.

"A surprising result, well outside expected responses to stress. It may indicate too much deviation and require a total reset. We'll discuss that later. Go to your room, Shaun."

The boy had gone white to the lips. He ran to his little cubby and closed the door, picking up a book but not really reading it. He kept looking up at us.

Silence. My son sat down at his table, his composure broke and he suddenly looked as shattered as I felt.

After a long moment he said, "The first memory a child has is the sound of his mother's heartbeat and her voice. When I created the child's basic data implant I copied those first subconscious memories from my own mind. So in a way he is programmed to be fond of you. I never expected he would use that code in any disruptive way."

"Or it's because I listen to him." I said, though I felt my own heart skip at the intimacy of his confession. That was something that connected us over two hundred years, the time we'd shared when he was born. Of course Shaun didn't remember his first few months, but that time had happened and maybe it did matter.

I sat down. "Shaun… I read part of the experiment on a terminal down there. You approved killing and replacing Mr. Warwick, and then killing the whole settlement when the project was over. 'Purge all surface evidence.' And you told me the Commonwealth has nothing to fear from the Institute. How can I trust you now?"

"I suppose it wouldn't help you to know that the experiment could result in food crops that mature twice as fast and potentially feed hundreds. Or that I hadn't read the full proposal before approving it. If I had known the farm Clayton had his eye on was one that your Minutemen had taken under their wing I would not have allowed it to go forward."

I could see that he was trying and it did help, a little. "So has the Institute done this before? Replace the head of a family to use their land?"

"Yes. Once before I became director, and once after. I stipulated the choice of homestead be one that was failing, so that our interference would be a benefit. And as the settlers never suspected Institute involvement the place was not destroyed after the experiment concluded. Clayton explained to me that he needed to test his hybrids in more productive surface soil with a certain salt content. That is why the Warwick homestead was chosen for the experiment."

It was all so neat and right and I wanted to accept it but I'd spent too much time with Piper and Piper would not have believed a word. "Tell Doctor Holdren he can still run his experiment. There's a new field at Kingsport Lighthouse he can use."

"You know the settlements so well?"

"I plowed it, last week. Hitched a plow to my power armor and made a field."

"Yourself?" I'd never seen him look—surprised, almost laughing.

"That's how we farm, topside. I'll talk to Doctor Holdren later."

"No need. I'll inform him." And Shaun went to his terminal and typed quickly, and stood up—then had to sit back down and type something else. Finally he picked up a microphone and said, "Clayton, you will work with the surface dwellers once. If the project fails you can try some other way. I'll hear no more on the subject."

And that seemed to be that. I said, "Thank you." and wished I felt better. It was better, after all. If the Institute could work with settlers, even once, that could be a massive step forward.

If I could believe anything I'd just heard. If my son wasn't putting on a show for me. The Commonwealth has nothing to fear from us.

The Director gives final approval for all projects.

Purge all surface evidence.

I'll hear no more on the subject.

I could feel it running out, every bit of hope I'd been hanging on to. I folded my arms and put my head down on them. "...Shaun, how can I trust you?"

A long silence.

"I'm sorry. You must feel very… betrayed. I don't know what else I can do to reassure you."

He was still trying. I didn't say anything.

A sigh. "I wanted you to come today because I planned to make an announcement at the directorate meeting. I have decided to name you my successor. To give the Institute to you, when I'm gone."

My head came up and the world, which had been fading to meaninglessness, snapped back into focus. "That won't work. I'm not from here, I'm not even a scientist. My world ended two hundred years ago. Nobody here is going to listen to my advice much less my orders."

"Then what do you think would work? What can I do for you?"

The words came without thought. "Change things. Communicate with the surface. Work with the people of the Commonwealth instead of using them. Stop making intelligent beings to keep as slaves. And don't do it for me, do it for everybody."

He was smiling a little, clearly finding me absurd. "Is that all?"

"Visit Diamond City. And tell the kid you won't reset him. He's frightened."

Shaun looked at me, smiling a little but I couldn't read his expression. After a long minute of me having no idea what he was thinking he stood up and went over to the boy's room and opened the door. The kid looked up, tense and flinching away.

"Shaun, your new friend convinced me of the wisdom of letting your personality develop naturally. I won't have your memories reset no matter how surprising your choices are."

The kid squeaked, "Thank you! Thank you!" He sort of tipped forward a little and I thought he wanted to hug Father. But he didn't. He scooted back into his room and grabbed the book again, smiling widely.

My son turned back to me. "If you'd really like me to visit Diamond City… all right. Choose a day. I suppose I will need appropriate clothing. The rest of what you said will require some consideration"

I had not expected that. While I was sitting there being surprised and thinking blankly that spotless prewar clothes would stand out in Diamond City, my son hesitated and began, "There was something else I meant to tell you today… but it can wait."

I didn't know whether to be relieved or angry or heartbroken, and I didn't think I could handle hearing anything else. "Maybe you can have the directors' meeting another day? Talk with the division heads about your retirement. I'll come back again. Thank you."

And because he tried, even though I'd just seen him to be a bully and a monster, I reached out and squeezed his arm in a little gesture of affection.